Singsong
by RebeccaLaFleur
Summary: In the hut on the rock, Dreama Little gives Harry his Hogwarts letter. The woman who knew his parents. this woman who knows criminals, aristocrats, werewolves and the Potions master. Romance in later Chapters. Snape/OC
1. Chapter 1

AN/: Hello, first story I have written in a long time. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I have no rights to Harry Potter, the characters, the plot or setting. All of these things belong to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. I would thank you not to sue me. If I did own the things that belong to J.K Rowling, I could pay off any lawsuits.

BOOM! They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hand – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you- I'm armed."  
>There was a pause. Then-<p>

SMASH!

The door hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.  
>A small silhouette was standing in the doorway. It stepped forward. Her face was round, but at first seemed hidden by her long wild, tangled hair. You could just make out her eyes, glinting in merriment.<p>

The woman looked to be in her thirties. She walked into the hut. She pulled a stick out of her sleeve and waved it. The door flew back into place.

"Couldn't make a cuppa for me, could you? It hasn't exactly been an easy journey."

She strode over to Dudley, he sat frozen on the couch.

"Budge up, piggy." Said the stranger.

Dudley squealed and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"And here's Harry!" She cried. Harry looked up into her eyes and saw her looking at him in familiarity. "The last time I saw you, you were only a baby. You look so much like your father, James. But you have Lily's eyes. Lovely Lily, that's what old Sluggy called her."

uncle Vernon made a funny, rasping noise. "I demand you leave at once, miss! You are breaking and entering."

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, you ignorant jerk." She flicked the stick again and the rifle turned into dust. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, he sounded like a mouse that had been stepped on.

"Anyway- Harry," she said "a very happy birthday to you. I have something for you. I have something for you. It may have gotten squished on the ride over, but it will taste alright."

From inside the satchel on her side, she pulled out a box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. It was a sticky chocolate that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY, in green icing.

"Hagrid and I made that for you." Harry looked at the woman. He meant to say thank-you but ended up saying: "Who are you?"

The woman laughed. "Dreama is the name, Dreama Little. Care of the Magical creatures' professor at Hogwarts." She held out her hand and grasped Harry's.

"Now, how about that tea, then?" she made a slight flicking motion with her stick and a fire sprang forth from the shrivelled chip bags in the fire grate. Harry felt the warmth wash over him as if he had just sunk into a nice, warm bath.

The woman sank back onto the sofa and reached into her bag again. She began pulling out all sorts of things. A kettle, a package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several blue mugs and some strange green and purple bottle, which she took a swig from before she set about making tea. Soon the hut was filled with the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said anything while Dreama was working, but as she slid the first six, fat, juicy and slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything she gives you Dudley."

Dreama laughed, when she did that she sounded slightly mad. Like…bedlam mad.

"Your great, fat son don't need to be fattened up by me, Dursley, you've done that, don't worry."

She passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off Dreama. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

Dreama took a sip of her tea, and wiped her mouth with her hand. "Call me Dreamy, everyone does. Like I said, I teach Care of the Magical Creature's at Hogwarts. You know about Hogwarts, don't you?"

"Er- no," said Harry.

Dreama looked shocked and angry.

"Sorry." Harry said quickly.

"SORRY?" roared Dreama. She turned to stare at the Dursely's, who shrank back into the shadows. "IT'S THEM WHO SHOULD BE SORRY! I KNEW YOU WEREN'T GETTING YOUR LETTERS BUT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D HAVE TO TELL YOU ABOUT HOGWARTS! I mean, where did you think your parents learned it all?" the sudden change from her screaming to a kind, soft voice was startling.

"All what?" asked Harry.

ALL WHAT?" she was screaming again. "NOW WAIT JUST ONE SECOND!" She had leapt to her feet. In her anger she seemed to make the oxygen in the air leave. The Dursley's were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean to tell me, that this boy – THIS boy- knows nothing about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school after all, and his marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

Dreama looked at him with a slightly annoyed face and said "About our world, I mean, your world. My world. Your parents' world."

"What world?"

Dreama looked like she was going to have an aneurism. "DURSLEY!"

Uncle Vernon had gone very pale and whispered something that sounded like "mimblewimble". Dreama stared at Harry.

"But you must know about your mom and dad," she said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"You don't know about James and Lily? You- you don't know?" Dreama ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly, she looked ready to cry. She fixed Harry with a stare and said, "You don't know what you are?"

Uncle Vernon seemed to have found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, ma'am! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quaked under the look that Dreama was giving him. When she spoke, every whispered syllable trembled with barely suppressed rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter that Dumbledore left for him? I know there was a letter. Dumbledore told me so, Dursley. You've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" Harry asked eagerly.

"STOP! I forbid you!" yelled Vernon in a panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Go eat a flobber-worm, the both of you. Harry, you're a Wizard."

There was silence in the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind was heard. "I'm a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, of course." Said Dreama, sitting back on the sofa. "And, knowing your parents, you'll be a great wizard. Once we get you trained up a bit, of course. I think, it's time that you got your letter." Harry reached out to grab the, now familiar, yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald ink to a Mr H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY. **_

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
>(Order of Merlin, first class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, international confed. of Wizards)<p>

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than july 31.

Yours sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall_  
><em>Deputy headmistress.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. We all know that.

AN:/ This is a thank you to my reviewers. I'm glad you like my story.

Special thanks to: Lady Elizabeth of New York for giving me a chance. I will hold your advice dear to me.

Harry looked up from the letter. Questions exploded in his head like fireworks. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Oh yeah," Dreama said thoughtfully. She dug her hand into her purse, and her arm seemed to disappear up to her shoulder. When she brought it out again it clutched a large golden cage with a big owl inside, she also had a piece of yellowish parchment and a quill. She thought for a moment before writing:

_Dear professor Dumbledore,_

_I've given Harry his letter. I think we'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get his things._

_You may have to explain some certain things, to some certain people. The weather sucks. Hope you're well. _

_Dreama_

_P.S: Could you please give Circe a treat for me? I think I'll have to bribe her to travel in this weather.  
><em>

Dreama rolled up the note, and held it in her left hand as she opened the gilded cage. The owl stepped out, and held out her leg. Dreama tied the note to its leg and opened the window. If Owls can glare, that is definitely what it was doing.

Harry gaped. His mind whirled. Dreama acts like this is the most common thing in the world, no different than using a telephone, or writing a letter. Which, Harry supposed, she kind of did. She just had a very different way of sending it.

"Now, Harry," she started, but wasn't given much of a chance to say anything else because Uncle Vernon, still ashen faced but looking angry, moved forward.

"He's not going," he said.

Dreama looked at him and snorted. "Like you could stop him you ignorant muggle."

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A muggle. It's what we call people who can't do magic. And it's just your luck that you ended up with these bigots."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish. Swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!" said Uncle Vernon, heaving.

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew that I'm a wizard?"

"Of course we knew!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, suddenly. "How could we not? Lily came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning tea cups into rats. My parents were so proud the day she got her letter. I was the only one who saw her for what she was- a freak!" she drew a breath and then went ranting on. She seemed to have wanted to say this for years.

Dreama looked mildly amused, Harry noted, he realized that she thought this entire thing was amusing, and also that she didn't like the Dursley's very much at all.

"Then she met that Potter at school, and then they got married and had you, I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal – and then, she went and got herself blown up, and we got landed with you!"

Harry went white. What? His mom and dad had- had – "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Dreama stiffen. The hut once again seemed to have lost all oxygen. "A car crash?" she asked. Seemingly calm, but scary. The Dursley's scuttled back into their corner. "A car crash kills two of the greatest wizards of the time? Harry potter doesn't know his own story, when every child in our world knows? When there are books written about him? When they managed to get us 11 solid years of peace at the cost of their lives?" Suddenly it was like watching a transformation.

Dreama seemed to turn red. She waved her, what Harry realized now; wand and a shot of blue light came out of it. Dudley had been given pigs' snout and tail. Uncle Vernon roared dragged aunt Petunia and Dudley into the room and slammed the door shut. Dreama looked sheepish.

"I'm in trouble," she said, then grinned. "Although, I do think it was an improvement on his looks."

Harry didn't smile, all he said was. "Why are my parents famous?"

Dreama's smile slid from her face, almost comically. She sank onto the couch and said: "It's a long story." She took a deep breath and started the story.

"Ten years ago there was this dark wizard who went by the name Voldemort. Other witches and wizards don't say his name. These were dark times, Harry. You didn't know who to trust. Your parents fought against these dark wizards. But no one lived once Voldemort decided to kill them. Your parents went into hiding, and only a few people knew where they were. Their best friend betrayed them." She paused, catching her breath, she looked about to cry. "You're special Harry. He tried to kill you and couldn't. That's why you have that scar, that's why everyone knows your name. You're the boy-who-lived."

Harry couldn't breathe. He wasn't special, was he? He couldn't be a wizard. Where was his magic? Why had every time Dudley hit him, did he not, himself, turn into a toad?

"Dreama, I think you have the wrong person. I'm not a wizard."

Dreama smiled, and then chuckled, and then just started laughing. "You're not a wizard, eh? Have you ever done anything that seemed magic when you were angry, or scared?"

Harry thought, and realized she was right. Heck, he'd ended up on his school's roof once. He smiled and she winked.

"Well Harry bear, lets get some sleep. I'll introduce you into the wizarding world tomorrow. We'll go and get your school stuff and maybe some new clothes. Save some sausage, you can have it for breakfast. Here," she picked up his blanket and waved her wand at it. Suddenly it was a thick woollen thing. She picked something out of her bag, a piece of parchment and suddenly it was a pillow. "Here, sleep with these, it will be nicer."

She said goodnight and situated herself on the floor, insisting she's suffered worse and that Harry could have the couch. He drifted off to sleep, to dreams of wizards, and spells and owls. And for some reason a flash of green light with a high, cold, cruel laugh.


End file.
